Page 93 of King Of Order

The beach was sparsely populated, as Rio promised.

It was like our own private paradise.

‘This is amazing,’ I breathed as I stepped out of the car, feeling the warm Mediterranean breeze against my skin. I turned to him, my heart fluttering. ‘How did you even find this place?’

He shrugged, that easy smile still lingering. ‘I have my ways. Figured you’d like it.’

‘I love it,’ I sighed.

He reached for the picnic basket we’d packed and grabbed my hand, leading me down a narrow path that cut through olive trees and wild bushes.

We hiked up the headland for a better perspective, then moved toward the shore below.

The closer we got to the water, the clearer it became.

It was so blue it didn’t seem real.

We found a quiet spot near the edge of the bay. It was a flat, shaded area beneath a rock formation offering a perfect ocean view.

We spread out a blanket and unpacked the basket.

Unable to resist the lure of the water, we lost ourselves in the moment—swimming, splashing around like children, treading together, laughing so free it seemed like a dream.

I felt lighter than I had in months, like I might breathe again.

Rio was an effortless swimmer, gliding through the sea with ease, but he kept close to me, his eyes checking in every so often.

After a while, we floated side by side, the sun warming our skin, the water lapping at our bodies.

I turned to him, my heart pounding from more than the exercise. ‘I could stay here forever,’ I whispered loud enough to be audible over the sound of the waves.

He glanced at me then, water dripping off his neck and beard, his wet hair slicked back. The ink on his neck glimmered, as did the intricate tattoos down one shoulder and sleeve, entrancing me.

Handsome, so handsome.

His eyes narrowed, the man studying me, his gaze intense and unwavering. ‘I know what you mean.’

His hand reached out, finding mine, fingers intertwining with mine, and then he pulled me into his chest, burying his face into my nape from behind.

More languid hours passed in a lazy haze of sunbathing, swimming, and kissing. We drifted in and out of conversation, existing together in that perfect moment, letting the world outside the bay disappear.

We stayed like that for a long time, floating, until our stomachs started to rumble, reminding us of the feast in our hamper.

Back on the beach, we ate in comfortable silence—stromboli with olives, sun-dried tomatoes, ham, salami, and cheese, accompanied by fresh fruit and cold lemonade.

For dessert, I shared my lemon and pine nut biscottis, which were crisp and sweet.

Everything tasted better under the sun.

It helped that we were alone on our corner of the shore, hidden from any view by the rocky incline on either side.

The deserted shoreline and the ocean stretched before us, waves splashing on the golden sand.

It was perfect.

Rio reclined next to me on my outsized towel, his eyes half-closed. The sea breeze tousled his hair.

One knee up and bent, the other on the ground, showing off his thick muscled thighs, and their dark hair whorls.

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